


Curls Will Fall

by madrabbitgirl



Series: Shampoo, Snip, Slither [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hairdresser, Alternate Universe - Human, Cosmetology AU, F/F, F/M, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Friends to Lovers, Hair Salon AU, Hair Stylist Aziraphale, Hair Stylist Crowley, Homophobic Language, Ineffable Wives, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Mentioned Beelzebub (Good Omens), Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens), No beta we fall like Crowley, Salon AU, Salon Rivalry, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ace friendly, hairstylist, homophobic language 'off screen', potential homophobic language but it's because Gabriel is a douche in this series, pre slash, they get over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrabbitgirl/pseuds/madrabbitgirl
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have been working at Wicked Cutz together for a while now and everything is going so well, except Aziraphale feels she could look a little more put together, so she asks Crowley for a very short haircut! While in the chair, she spills on how she was afraid of looking too boyish only to realize that might not be all that bad.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Lucifer (Good Omens - Mentioned)
Series: Shampoo, Snip, Slither [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150151
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Curls Will Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Just another quick one-shot I came up with in the Shampoo, Snip & Slither universe inspired by a salon... I mean, not inspired by real life at all. My writing is definitely all made up.
> 
> You might need to have read the first one. I can't tell, really.
> 
> Thanks to MadMags for semi-betaing this one before I put it up.

The only station in Wicked Cutz that was available was the one next to Crowley, which was both the absolute best and absolute worst, in Aziraphale’s opinion. It was the best because they had become fast friends and being close to Crowley, being able to watch her work and learn from her, was a dream. Of course, it was also a nightmare because she was forming a rather close attachment to Crowley and it was becoming a nuisance. Especially considering Crowley’s rather inconvenient beau, Luke, who was too nice to Aziraphale and put her on edge. 

No, no, Aziraphale didn’t have time to develop some wretchedly bothersome crush on her closest friend. Firstly, there was the traumatic brainwashing that had taken place at her last place of employment. She hated to think that Gabriel was capable of it, but looking back (with the help of her therapist) she was able to see the control and manipulation that left her emotionally scarred. He’d had a very strict yet ‘suggested’ dress code and his stylists had to be entirely made up with their hair perfectly styled at all times. 

Aziraphale looked in the mirror of her station as she put the finishing touches on Madame Tracy’s blow out. She’d always tried her best with her curls, but they were somehow both frizzy and limp at the same time, and there was so much of her own hair that it was almost impossible to style on her own. Not that she’d tried, really, because she was always more into perfecting her technical skills than she was her own appearance. Catching Madame Tracy’s eyes in the mirror, she forced a bright smile onto her lips and continued her work. 

It would be so much better if her hair was shorter. 

Gabriel hadn’t liked his stylists to have short hair. Well, the female (or female presenting) ones. Uriel had been an exception, but that was the only one. Aziraphale’s smile faltered as she thought of Gabriel’s assistant manager, Michael, whose hair was always in perfect order. But that was all in the past now, wasn’t it? Aziraphale could do as she liked. 

“Thank you, lovie,” Tracy said, patting Aziraphale’s cheek as they walked towards the door. Beez was waiting to ring up Tracy’s service. She was a fairly regular client that had followed Aziraphale from the old salon to the new one. Like clockwork, she’d have a perm one week and then a roller set the next, all with a voluminous vintage blow-out. She said her gentlemen friends liked it that way, but Aziraphale felt she had a healthy dose of ‘the higher the hair, the closer to God’ running through her veins. She loved Tracy for it. “You did a beautiful job, and you look so much happier here.” 

“Oh, I am,” Aziraphale gushed, giving another glance towards Crowley. She was behind her chair, finishing up a very precise cut on one of her high-end corporate clients. Some woman in a power suit and heels who’d spent the entire service on her laptop. Aziraphale turned back to Tracy. “I’ve made some wonderful friends.” 

“I’m sure you have. I really think you’ve found your home, dear, I do. That other place was too severe. This is a good start,” Tracy gushed. 

“A good start?” Aziraphale asked, her smile faltering. 

“I just have this feeling you’ll end up in your own shop one day. Your mum would be so proud,” Tracy beamed. She turned to Beez. “I’d like to book the same slot for next week.” 

Aziraphale chuckled as she went back to her station to clean up. Even though Tracy and her were almost the same age, she treated her like an indulgent mother would a doting daughter, which was nice as Aziraphale’s own mother had passed several years ago. Still, where she got the notion that Aziraphale had any intention of opening up her own-

Well, her own salon did sound sort of like a nice idea. Maybe with a back room and a comfy reading nook for those rare days when every color client on her book cancelled. 

Crowley was finishing up with her client as well and had begun helping her, rather impatiently, towards the door. As the woman settled up with Beez, Crowley started back to her station, scowling at Aziraphale. 

“She pays well but she’s a blessed pain in the arse,” Crowley growled. She was leaning close to Aziraphale, practically hissing into her ear, and it made shivers run up and down her spine. “How was the Madame today?” 

Aziraphale giggled. “She’s quite well. She’s convinced she’s made progress with her neighbor, Mr. Shadwell, but I’ve known her many years and he’s always been quite brusque with her.” 

Crowley snickered. “Well, I, for one, am rooting for her. Even if all men are shit.” 

“Are things not going well with Luke?” Aziraphale asked, raising her eyebrows up. Crowley shook her head. 

“You know how it is, together one week, broken up the next. Who knows what ‘well’ is anymore.” Her long fingers started to tidy up her cutting tools. She held a sharp pair of scissors in her hand and stroked back and forth with a scrap of leather before picking up a tiny bottle of oil and dotting it along the blade. The motion was so graceful that Aziraphale lost several moments just staring. 

“Hello, angel? Did you want something? Earth to Aziraphale,” Crowley said, putting her shears down to wave at Aziraphale. She smirked. “It’s been a long shift for you. Dead on your feet, eh?” 

“Something like it,” Aziraphale said, returning to her body. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror again and cringed. Long, frizzed blond curls, frumpy body in a shabby attempt at looking dapper. She needed a change. “Crowley, could I ask a favor of you, my dear?” 

“Anything you want, angel,” Crowley agreed cheerfully. Probably a mistake, really, to so blindly agree to whatever someone wanted, but that was how Crowley always seemed to be. At least with Aziraphale. If they went out to dinner after a shift, it was always Aziraphale’s choice and ‘whatever you want, angel’. It made the poor girl _want_ things. 

“Well, I’d really like a cut, if you don’t mind,” Aziraphale said. She held up her hands, realizing how rude it probably seemed to ask a stylist just finishing up for the day to do her hair. “I’d- I’d pay, of course, but-” 

Crowley had frozen at her station, right in the middle of running her come through one of her round brushes to get stray hair off. Her jaw was hanging open. “What sort of cut?” 

“Um, short? I had a picture I found, if you- if you don’t mind,” Aziraphale said. She reached into the pocket of her waistcoat and pulled out a delicate, folded magazine page that she’d ripped out earlier. She usually didn’t enjoy brutalizing books of any kind, but magazines were so very cheap and it could hardly count, right? The photograph was of a very thin model, but she had a rounded face and soft chin, which gave the impression that this cut would look good on models of all sizes. Her curls were very short on the sides and only slightly longer on top, and her white-blonde hair was a good match for Aziraphale’s. 

Crowley let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of hair, angel. Are you sure?” 

“I just find long hair so terribly inconvenient, and- and- I’ve always thought short hair looked so put together and neat. If you can’t, I understand,” Aziraphale started to stammer but Crowley shook her head fervently. 

“Nnng, no no, no, angel, you’re fine. If you’ve thought this out and you’re sure, I’d love to. Let’s get you washed,” Crowley said. She placed the picture on her station and motioned for Aziraphale to follow her to the sinks. “It’s just a big change. Your hair is so long.” 

“That’s Gabriel’s doing, unfortunately. He always preferred his stylists to be able to, well, _style_ their hair. I remember one time admiring a client that had very short hair and he made some rather homophobic remarks regarding her- well, I’m very uncomfortable repeating the words.” Aziraphale was rambling and she knew it, but Crowley seemed content to listen. She draped her friend in a towel and a cutting cape before leaning her back in one of the cushioned shampoo chairs. Those long fingers Aziraphale had been admiring lifted the heavy curls up and back so they were in the basin, ready for Crowley to wet them down. 

“Prick,” Crowley muttered. She turned on the water and seemed to know immediately that Aziraphale preferred the water just this side of scalding, even though it blew open the cuticle and roughed up the hair a bit. “You should have whatever hair makes you feel the best. If you don’t like long hair-” 

“I never have. Or, I think I haven’t. I have never gone this short before, of course. Most people look at my hair and tell me I can’t possibly have a pixie with my texture, but I’ve had it in bobs before, so I think I’ll like it.” Aziraphale twisted her hands together underneath her cape. Crowley’s capable hands helping the water work itself through her thick hair. 

“If you’re nervous-” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise,” Aziraphale replied. Her wide eyes peered up at Crowley, seeing herself reflected in the other girl’s dark glasses. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, my dear.” 

“Alright, then. Just lay back and relax, angel. I’ll take care of you,” Crowley promised. And she did. Her beautiful hands massaged every ache away from Aziraphale’s worried head and the treatment she used smelled divine. It was over all too quickly. Crowley slid the towel down Aziraphale’s wet hair, wringing it to get the excess water out. “I used the purple shampoo. You don’t need it too much but it’ll brighten you up a touch. Make that blonde really shine.” 

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful, Crowley.” Aziraphale sat up, holding the towel around her hair in place. “Shall we go back to your chair?” 

“Mhmm, I’ll be right there. Just rinsing out the bowl.” Crowley had the water going again, washing away any of the remaining foam in the bowl. “Get yourself a cape, angel.” 

Aziraphale nodded. On the way back to Crowley’s chair, she took a fresh, warm from the dryer towel and draped it over her shoulders before topping it with a soft satiny cutting cape. Her indulgent nature really showed in moments like this, when normal people wouldn’t think to add that touch of warmth or texture to an experience. If Aziraphale was doing something, she wanted to do it in the best possible way. Even the warm towel, though, couldn’t soothe away her nerves. There were so many things she’d been taught about short hair, all of which were hideous stereotypes, but it didn’t stop her from cringing when she thought of them. 

_Dyke_ hair. As if being a dyke was a bad thing? Or, ‘you’ll look like a boy’. But weren’t boys just as beautiful? What was so horrid about looking like one? 

She didn’t notice Crowley coming up behind her and it startled her when a hand with black-pointed nails came to rest on her shoulder.

“Whoa, angel, chill out. You nervous? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” Crowley said. Aziraphale’s blue eyes met the gaze of Crowley’s glasses in the mirror. Aziraphale deflated.

“Are you about to tell me that I can’t have short hair? Because if one more stylist tells me that my hair won’t look nice short-” 

“No! Nngg, no, nope. Not at all. You just seem, y’know. Off,” Crowley suggested. She glanced over at Aziraphale’s station, and then stepped over to it to grab the magazine clipping. Her glasses reflected a watery version of the image back at Aziraphale as she gazed at it once more. “Your hair is more than capable of doing this cut, if you want. You’ve just had a lot of big changes lately. I wanted to make sure this isn’t a break-up cut. You- You’re- hnnng- You’re going to look hot with this haircut, angel.” 

“As if anything in the world could make me look _hot_ ,” Aziraphale complained. Being in the beauty industry was certainly hard sometimes. There were so many _standards_ and _gender norms_ that one was always fighting. It was easy to begin to hate yourself when you were forced to see your reflection several times a day every day. It was easy to nit pick, as it were. Aziraphale sniffed again, tilting her chin up in an aristocratic, condescending way. “Neat will suffice.” 

“Oh, angel, I just hope you know one day I’m going to light that _wanker’s_ salon on fire and it’s going to be in your name,” Crowley murmured. She put down the picture and picked up her shears. “Close your eyes, dove. I want you to be surprised.” 

“I’m sure lighting his salon on fire is hardly necessary,” Aziraphale protested, but she closed her eyes anyway. “And why, may I ask, do you prefer me to be blind for this experience?” 

Crowley’s footsteps moved closer, and Aziraphale could feel the long fingers of one hand twist in her damp hair. “Because you’ll enjoy the experience more. As a stylist, you’re going to sit there and just pick apart every section, every little sssnip. I want you to enjoy this, and you can’t do that by criticizing me every step of the way.” 

She knew that Crowley was quite right, of course. Aziraphale was meticulous in her work, which could be a good thing but it could also make her hyper critical. Her lips twisted as she considered this. “What’s in it for you?” 

Crowley cackled. “The surprise, angel. Your face is going to be priceless.” 

“That rather makes me want to open my eyes,” Aziraphale remarked, but she didn’t. Instead, she focused on the gentle tugging as Crowley untangled her hair. She focused on the smell of the product that Crowley applied and how it wafted gently around her. She could hear the sharp snick-snick of each snip and the barely-there flop as damp curls hit the cushioned mat below them. Most importantly, she was able to focus on the rumblings of Crowley’s actual voice- not that syrupy customer-service one she reserved for her clients. Her true tones were a bit deeper and more gravelly and they sent Aziraphale shivering every time she heard them. 

“I worked for Gabriel the first year he had his place. It was really Hell, if I’m being honest,” Crowley started. “But you know how that is- you worked for him, too. We had to be there at nine when the place opened and we had to stay until he finished his clients, even if he was working a closing shift and ours were long gone. Sometimes we were there until midnight, if it was a color correction. And his dress code! I’ve seen what he wants you all to look like now. When he first opened, he had no real clear vision and our rules changed constantly.” 

“Ah, yes, he’s quite particular in that area,” Aziraphale managed. It was odd, the chilly feeling of air on the back of her neck as more hair fell. It gave her goosebumps. 

“Gendered, is what you mean. Likes girls in make-up, men in ties and fuck off if you identify as anything else. I came in after getting this really sharp pixie cut, super punk rock, and he flipped. That was the last straw for me. He also hated my nail polish,” Crowley said. Her words turned into a snicker. “He likes _pastelsss_ not black.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Aziraphale said, her lips curving into a smile. “About the polish. He does prefer pastels, though.” 

“You’ve never had black nails, angel? One day I’ll haft to tempt you into letting me do your nails. You’d look great in black,” Crowley said. Her fingers started coming closer to Aziraphale’s scalp as she started to create shorter and shorter sections. “Hides color stains better, too. But you’re so precise in your work you probably never have to worry about that, eh?” 

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Aziraphale protested. Crowley’s hand firmly pushed her head forward, making a few cuts, and then tilted it to one side before continuing.

“Dunno. Makes me wanna rough you up a little. You’re not in Heaven any longer,” Crowley teased before tilting her to the other side. “I really think you’re going to love this cut, angel. You’ve got the perfect face for it.” 

Aziraphale bit back the ‘fat’ that lingered on her tongue. That was Gabriel talking. He had a habit of watching his employees take their break-

And Crowley seemed to sense it.

“Like I said, gonna burn that salon down in your honor, angel. He never bothered me much, but you know I don’t like to take breaks when I work. There was this other girl, real sweet stylist, and he would _hover_ over her while she ate. Didn’t matter what it was- salads, sandwiches, soups. He’d just watch her and question her about it,” Crowley told her. “It made all of us uncomfortable.” 

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Aziraphale said weakly. It was true. Sometimes, during his better moods, Gabriel merely seemed interested. However, there were days when his pointed comments were made to drive into Aziraphale’s core and make her question every action. Crowley clucked.

“Sometimes bad bosses are as harmful as bad exes,” Crowley remarked. They fell into silence then, and said nothing. Aziraphale just listened to the sweet movements of her new friend. There was a delicious mist as Crowley re-wet certain sections of her hair, more head tilting, and Crowley’s skilled fingers holding her ears out of the way as she trimmed around the sensitive skin there. Eventually, Crowley stopped and seemed satisfied enough with her work. Aziraphale could hear the click of another product bottle and felt it being worked into her much shorter hair. 

“Alright, angel, I think that’s good enough for right now. I hope it’s up to your high standards,” Crowley said with a snicker. When Aziraphale opened her eyes, she was turned away from the mirror. She frowned. 

“Crowley! How am I supposed to-” 

“I knew you’d open them before I told ya, and I wanted to see your face,” Crowley said. With that, she whipped the chair around and watched delightedly as Aziraphale reacted to her new cut.

“Oh! Ohh, _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale breathed. She reached up to touch her styled curls. “Crowley, I _love_ it.” 

“Nggk!” Crowley blushed right through her layers of foundation. “M’glad you like it.” 

Aziraphale beamed at Crowley in the mirror, grinning even harder the darker red her friend turned. “I don’t just like it. I love it. Really, Crowley, it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like- well, like myself. I feel at home.” 

Crowley managed a small smile and another choking sound before eeking out the words, “S’good, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, you may also like my angsty WIP 'Crawling Back to You' or my 4 AM Diner Universe 'Slice of Love'. 
> 
> If you have any ideas for what you'd like to see out of these two next, feel free to suggest something. I love this universe but honestly these were the only two prompts I had in mind.
> 
> If you're wondering what Aziraphale's hair inspiration pic was, it's [ this. ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/100627372913562400)  
> Find me on [ Tumblr ](https://madrabbitsociety.tumblr.com)  
> or on my [ My Blog ](https://www.madrabbitsociety.com/p/insta-links.html)


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